Monday, November 15, 2010

The Writers Group

I invited Alex and Esther to form a writing group. We've met twice at my place on Sunday afternoons.
Yesterday we ate peas with our hands.
I'm not sure why. I do own silverware.

I met both Alex and Esther fairly recently.
I've only recently started to invite new people into my home.

After my mother killed herself, I had rocked in my chair in the dark and thought,
I want nothing else to happen.
And nothing did, or so it seemed.

After a couple years, one day I looked out a bus window and thought, I want more life,
and life began to start up again.
It felt familiar but weird, like returning to a place I'd lived but hadn't been in a long, long time.

The other night, I dreamed I'd moved to a new neighborhood. I'd need to find my way all over again. It was sort of an anxiety dream and sort of a promise.

12 comments:

Lee said...

very cool, Francesca!

and I love the writerly sacrament of eating peas from a communal bowl by hand:

i don't know what it means either, but it seems ripe with metaphorical and spiritual significance.

like tiny chlorophyllic eggs.

who knows what might soon hatch inside you and your comrades and come out ?

Planimals!?!!??!

ArtSparker said...

I eat my peas with honey
I've done it all my life
They do taste rather strange
But it keeps them on the knife.

Hope you are all writing some wonderful things, a good season for gathering around the peas...

Clowncar said...

lovely post. I can picture you looking out the bus window thinking, I want more life.

promise can get me out the door when nothing else can.

a few months after my sister died I bought my first telescope. I can draw a straight line between those two events, though it is a difficult line to explain.

deanna said...

These bits of your life sound like gems to me (they shine; they have meaning). Go, writers! Enjoy the new neighborhood.

Anonymous said...

Peas please . . . .

Kate

Margaret said...

I have a brother who is repulsed by foods that roll; he can hardly stand the sight of peas.

To Things That Move!

femminismo said...

All of this is very revealing and makes me thoughtful. And happy that you are wanting "life" in your life. And how funny that my brother hates most every kind of food (truly almost every kind), but Del Monte canned peas are his favorite vegetable.

Fresca said...

LEE: I hadn't thought of that--they must be seeds!

SPARKY: You read my mind--I almost quoted that.

CLOWN: Death leads to curious purchases and other changes!

DEANNA: Shiny!

MARTZ: Foods that roll... But, but, that eliminates oranges. How can one live without oranges?

FISMO: What's with these brothers, yours and Margaret's? I didn't know people had intense relationships with peas!

poodletail said...

The clarity you have surrounding and after your mother's death ia astonishing. Is hasn't been that long! Thanks for this lovely bit of writing today, Fresca.

Clowncar said...

It wasn't the buying of the telescope I was trying to emphasize, but the attempt to let the world back in. even if it was the cold, faraway world of space. it was a start. at the fact that it was so distant made it a somewhat safe choice, letting the world in, yet still keeping it at a distance.

I'm better now.

Emma J said...

Browsing back through all these posts I've missed during my time away - I am struck by the hopefulness I feel reading your words and how delightful to see writers' hands full of green seeds. All in all it sounds like a good neighborhood to move into.

Fresca said...

CLOWN: I see. I knew it wasn't the purchase itself, but wasn't sure what it was. Thanks for saying a little more!

EMMA: Hopefulness. Wow, that's great--I'm glad that's what comes through. Yeah, I guess I am hopeful.